Starstrike
by SenkaBrighteye
Summary: [AU] The Hexagon did a lot of good and caused a lot of pain in its short life. These are some snapshots of the difference it made.
1. 2003 - Cam

**A/N**

Changelog:

2 Jul 14: Added chapter 1 and boring cover image.

4 Jul 14: Updated cover image.

19 Jul 14: Added chapter 2.

22 Jul 14: Made punctuation edits to chapter 2.

15 Nov 14: Added chapter 3. Removed reference to Ranger-related academic programs in chapter 1.

23 Nov 14: Added chapter 4. Fixed typo and added a few words in chapter 1.

* * *

><p>Cam stretched in his chair and slowly rubbed his hands together. He hadn't taken even a short break for a couple of hours; with that bug worked out, it was finally a good time. <em>I feel like I've been writing code for the last three weeks.<em> He stopped rubbing when he realized his hands were sore. _Are those blisters? Is that even possible?_ he thought. There probably wasn't any other explanation. He had designed this keyboard himself to be ergonomic with respect to the zord programming language. He couldn't imagine how his hands would feel right now if they'd given him an ordinary keyboard, but it had been like pulling teeth to get them to let him use this one. Billy had to personally approve it…

His thoughts drifted back to the debacle that was the tech orientation. It was common knowledge that Tommy Oliver had trouble operating a garage door opener, let alone leading a couple dozen employees in a science he knew nothing about. So Billy Cranston himself had been summoned, all the way from Aquitar. Never mind that the Karovans were physically and politically closer. Gotta keep it "in the family", as it were. Not that Cam wasn't grateful for the original Ranger's time; Billy _was_ the best, and at least he'd had the sense to give the technicians both the option of a more public work space (so they wouldn't die of solitary confinement) and the option of a quiet office. It was just inefficient, calling the best of the best from another planet to teach rookies. He couldn't help but wonder if Oliver had simply jumped at an opportunity to see an old friend.

He looked down at his keyboard, the familiar Wind Ninja emblem staring up at him from the big red button. If they made him the zord operator, he would finally get to use that button. It wasn't likely. He knew from the beginning that they were watching him, that they didn't think him psychologically fit for action. _But a mind is a terrible thing to waste-_

A shrill chirp interrupted his thoughts. He had reserved that particularly obnoxious alert tone for messages from his father. He opened the message in a full window, though there was no need; as always with the sensei, the message was brief and full of hidden meaning.

kwatanabe: I chose to expel three students today.

The Hexagon's poor management processes were temporarily banished from Cam's mind. Expulsion was a big deal. It was not something the sensei liked doing. It made that person a disgrace in the ninja community, and most people never regained its respect. Ninja schools, and the Wind Ninja Academy in particular, did not have very high retention rates, but most of those drop-outs were the result of the students realizing they were not cut out for that kind of life and choosing another path. It was better to quit while ahead.

Cam thought about asking who the students were and what went wrong, but it probably wasn't anyone he knew. That was not why his father had bothered to get on the computer and send him an instant message. Rather, it pained the sensei on a personal level to let go of students with any amount of potential, no matter the reason. It also pained him to be separated from his son for so long. Their respective duties made the hour-long drive prohibitive.

Cam thought for a moment before responding.

cwatanabe: I'm sorry to hear that.

He didn't know what else to say. He cared, but he couldn't do anything about it. He said the next thing that entered his mind.

cwatanabe: Out of curiosity, have you made your choices for the morphers?

He wasn't trying to get on his father's case. The bureaucracy was doing enough of that. He just wanted to know, and a fresh study of the best students at the school might ease the sensei's mind a little. And given that they had the privilege of being the source of the next team of Rangers, it was only courteous to make the decision in a reasonable amount of time. A rumor was spreading that the Thunder Ninja Academy had already chosen three students of its own, just in case the Winds couldn't be counted upon. _Okay, maybe I am getting on his case._ As if in rebuke, the computer chirped again.

kwatanabe: Not yet. A ninja should never make an important decision without due deliberation, if at all possible.

He sighed. _The advice never stops._ It never changed its tone, either. It was the same at age twenty-five as it had been at five and fifteen.

Cam got up to get more coffee. The room was so quiet that he noticed every sound he made, despite the soft carpet. When he was done pouring, his ears readjusted until he could hear first the ticking of a wall clock, then the hum of the computer tower, and eventually the soft whine of the monitor. He held on to the mug without drinking for a while, letting it put some warmth back into his fingers. The air conditioning was just a bit too strong for his comfort.

He actually laughed a little at himself. _The best place in the world to work, and here I am complaining about the air conditioning._

He should have been happy. He had the privilege of being the only person in the Hexagon working on zord design right now, and he had total freedom in his design choices. But he had heard them talking, and heaven only knew what menial project they would put him on once the zords were finished... once they had gotten every last drop of mental exertion out of him.

"If I had wanted to lock myself in an office building to write software all day," he muttered aloud, "I would have finished college and gotten an ordinary job." The bare walls didn't have much to say in response, but they probably knew that he wanted what everyone at the Hexagon wanted: to be a real part of the Rangers' lives, to be as close to the action as he could.

Evil was no joke. Earth, with its vast amounts of resources and high population of innovative, versatile, and largely ignorant sapients, was consistently targeted by megalomaniacs. A scary proportion of megalomaniacs had access to a ridiculous amount of power. They had to be opposed, and the precious few people with the strength, will and adaptability to combat them tended to be adolescents. And since his father wasn't going to give him the opportunity to _be _one of those people, he would make damn sure that they got all the help he could give. He just didn't think that constant tech development was the best use of his abilities.

He was a ninja himself; he had earned several honors in his training, though this was usually kept quiet to avoid the appearance of favoritism. He had defended his school and home from attacks. None of that would ever gain him any respect outside the ninja community. It barely gave him any from within that community, for that matter. Discipline, hard work and strong values were expected. Cam wasn't really exceptional. _But why does that make me feel useless?_ Because he was in a building full of exceptional people. It would take far more to earn _their_ respect.

What went into respect, anyhow? Try as he might, he didn't seem capable of getting any more respect from his father than he already did. He was already one of the most skilled zord technicians on the planet Earth, if not _the_ most, and yet the Hexagon was ready to drop him. What did the Hexagon value? Rangers. Only the Rangers. Its leader was the most legendary Ranger of all time. What did _he_ want?

Cam had been down this line of thought many times, but that was a new angle. What if he caught Tommy's attention? People respected those whom the Rangers respected. Not only that, but friends of Rangers were more likely to become Rangers. New threats in new places tended to result in local recruits for the new team, but replacement Rangers were not unheard-of. That was probably the way to go: do things the management liked. Suck up.

He shook his head. Something felt very wrong about a world that operated that way. Perhaps he could gain the respect of others, but he would not be able to respect himself.

_Even so…_

If he _were _to suck up, he had an obvious way to do it. Tommy had recently called for a fourth Ninja Ranger power. Green. It was Cam's responsibility, but the zords had (rightly) taken precedence. Rumors had been flying among the technicians when the announcement first came. Tommy hadn't requested for a fourth ninja student to fill the role, so it seemed clear that he wanted a Ranger similar to his original powers: an unstoppable steamroller of an extra Ranger, visually different from the main team. And Tommy was the boss, so he would get what he wanted. That was Cam's duty, wasn't it? He would create the Ranger powers as directed, at the highest quality possible.

Cam slowly sat down again, setting the coffee in its usual place. _This could actually be fun. I've always liked green. What goes with green? Silver? No, gold._ He smiled a little and cracked his knuckles. It was too easy. _You want to re-live the glory days, Oliver? That's what you'll get._

He opened a design program and got to work, sketching a human figure with a roughly triangular breastplate. The new power wouldn't be connected to the way of the ninja, but that didn't mean it couldn't be strong; multiple tech-only teams had proven that. In fact, they had raised the bar. The Titanium and Quantum Rangers were the strongest known to date. _I'll just have to do better_. He had little doubt about pulling it off. Even as he drew the new suit, his mind was buzzing with morpher and zord mechanics, bringing together scraps of ideas he'd had along the way when designing the Wind Ninja morphers, including new ways to merge disparate power sources.

Outside, beyond the vastness of the Hexagon's other wings, the summer sun was going down. The keyboard clacked merrily.


	2. 2003 - Wes

Wes was having a very pleasant walk until he tripped over a dog.

He saw it coming, as it were. Not literally, of course; he had been texting, but he had just been thinking that he should probably look where he was going. The fall seemed to happen in slow motion, giving him adequate time to land on his good arm. He was _not_ going back to the hospital, not for a while, if he could help it.

When he stopped wincing from the pain, he found himself looking up at a golden retriever, which was looking very sorrily back at him and whining softly. Someone ran over to Wes and helped him back up. He wanted to say that he didn't need help, but his balance was off because one arm was in a sling. Then the other man was brushing dirt and grass off of him, and he _really_ wanted to say that he didn't need help. Instead, he suddenly recognized the red headband and said, "Cole?"

Cole looked him in the face and broke into a huge smile. "Wes! Man, I just keep running into you! How are you?"

"Well, uh…" Wes motioned weakly with his bad arm, and then he caught sight of his phone face-down on the ground with a couple pieces of broken plastic around it. "Not too great. It's been a rough day. Would you get that for me?"

"Yeah, of course!" Cole snatched up the phone and handed it to Wes, who examined it. A corner of the chassis was busted, but the screen was miraculously intact. Eric's last message was still visible.

Taylor who?

Wes sighed and put the phone back in his pocket. Apparently they were mad at each other again, and Eric didn't want to talk about it.

"Hey!" Cole was suddenly gripping his shoulders. "I can tell you!"

"Tell me what?"

"We got our powers back!" Cole produced his Growl Phone as evidence.

Wes blinked. Cole could be unpredictable, but that was one of the last things he expected to hear. "How did that happen?"

"Princess Shayla talked to these people from the Hexagon, which is this group that helps Rangers get organized and help more people. It's kind of like-"

"I know what the Hexagon is," Wes said with a frown.

"Oh, okay. Isn't it great? It's like you told me - there are other Rangers like us, all over the world. The more of them work together, the more we can help each other fight off evil!"

Cole's grin was contagious enough to lift the frown, if not to get Wes equally excited. "Teamwork is pretty great," he admitted, unsure of what else to say.

"I know. Rangers helping Rangers, what could be better? And it's a beautiful day... Oh, but you said you were having a bad day."

"That's all right," said Wes automatically. "Why don't we keep walking? I need to get a little exercise. I've been sitting around for too long."

"Okay." Cole glanced at the dog, who got up and began to follow them. They continued down the path. "What happened to you?"

"I was in a battle... I guess you don't watch the news."

Cole reached out toward a tree and trailed his hand along the leaves as he passed. "Yeah, I don't like TV very much. But you won, right?"

Wes sighed. This would take a while to explain. "Yeah, we won. We also lost a lot."

Cole must have picked up on the gravity in Wes' voice, because he kept quiet while Wes gathered his thoughts.

"The Hexagon actually sent me and Eric undercover to investigate this monster sighting, all the way down in San Juan. That's pretty far away, a few hours' drive. We were told it would be easy: get in, gather information, get out. Almost like a vacation." Wes paused, trying to decide how much to tell. "Long story short, it wasn't easy. There were three monsters, not just one, which is always a bad sign. They were powerful magic users, and they made themselves grow. Eric and I don't have our zords anymore, so we just had to hide from them."

Cole's eyes went wide. "What did you do?"

"There was nothing _we_ could do, so we called back to the Hexagon for reinforcements. The nearest zords were in Mariner Bay, so Tommy called on Lightspeed to help out. But he didn't know that because they were made just for Mariner Bay, the Lightspeed zords don't have room for enough fuel to take them that far away and back." _In the end, it didn't matter,_ Wes thought. "The Max Solarzord was the first to get there, but it wasn't nearly powerful enough to fight all three monsters by itself. It was just tossed around, like it was nothing. Lightspeed threw all the zord power it had at them, but they only barely won." He suddenly realized that he was holding his head at an uncomfortable angle, and clenching his fists. _I don't want to tell this story, and I shouldn't have to. _The press had gotten their paws on a photo of the Max Solarzord with three of its limbs torn off; it was on every station, every front page. For a while, nobody thought Ryan would wake up again.

Wes turned his attention to Cole as they walked in silence. Cole's bright eyes were now aimed at the ground. Wes wanted to say more, to get him to walk away from the mess that was Hexagon while he had the chance, but he wasn't sure if that would really be better. It was disorganized, and its resources were spread out; more Rangers available meant potentially faster responses to emergencies. But if its leadership didn't start making better decisions soon, there was going to be a great deal of fallout. Every Ranger already associated with the Hexagon was subject to sharp criticism.

"I guess the Hexagon needs our help more than ever," said Cole.

_It must be nice to be__ him._ "Maybe so," said Wes.

"No, not 'maybe'." Cole stopped walking and took Wes by the shoulders again. "We _can't_ give up. People need our help, and the best way to help them is to work together. I know you're upset about what happened, but don't let it come between you and other Rangers."

Wes smiled a little. "Don't worry. I'll always be there to help if I can."

"Good." Cole let go of him, scratched his head and looked around. There weren't any people nearby, but he seemed concerned about the trees overhearing their conversation. "I get worried sometimes, because of those Thunder Rangers."

_Here we go._ "What are you worried about?"

Cole struggled to find words. "It's just- you know, there's a whole team of Rangers that thinks it's better to be completely separate from everybody else than... than to work with people they don't like. I don't know if they can even call themselves Rangers. On _our_ team, we didn't always like each other, but because we had to work together, we learned to respect and care for each other."

"I don't think it's as simple as them not liking people," said Wes carefully.

"And when we helped out your team that one time, Eric and Taylor didn't like each other at first. But they fought side-by-side, and they chose to treat each other well, and now they're even having a baby!" Wes froze. Cole didn't notice. "If they can do _that_, I think _any_ Rangers can work together. It makes me angry to know that there are people out there who won't try. Maybe they could have helped you out in that battle!"

Wes' mind was reeling. _Calm down. Cole can't possibly know that. Focus on the conversation at hand._ "There were reasons why the Thunder Rangers didn't join the Hexagon." It was in protest of the Hexagon's requirement that all new Rangers pass their background checks before beginning operations, to call their bluff. "They believe that no one person should have that much control."

"Not even a good person?"

_That's the question I've been asking myself every day._ "I don't know."

Wes looked up to find Cole staring into his eyes. Somehow he got the feeling that Cole was trying to read him, like he could see into his soul. He tried to look back, but it got too awkward and he looked away.

"It was good to see you, Wes." Cole wasn't smiling.

"You too."

Cole turned and walked back the way they had come. Wes continued on.


	3. 2003 - Brian

Brian was deep into an engrossing conversation with the sharply dressed director of HR when he felt a tap on his arm. It was Ian, of course. "Two minutes."

"I know, I'm on it." As if in response, Brian's watch beeped. "See, that means it's show time. Lovely meeting you," he added to the director. He shook her hand, adjusted his tie, took a deep breath and headed over to the podium.

As he set up his notes, his eyes skimmed the hundred or so people in the room, now beginning to take their seats. Many were faces he recognized from Engineering. His own team was already seated in the front row, probably sweating. He was glad at least one of them liked public speaking. The only thing making him nervous right now was Mr. Oliver. Brian knew how to handle engineers and businessmen, grandmothers and military officers (and military officers who were grandmothers), but this man was a legend. As such, he was completely unpredictable. The rumors often contradicted one another. And this was just the man Brian needed to impress. Well, him and three others.

Brian looked at his watch again and scanned the room. It would be rude to start without them. "Welcome, everyone. If you would please be seated, we'll be starting as soon as everyone has arrived." He glanced at Mr. Oliver, whose eyes were fixed on the only door to the room.

At 2:30 p.m. and twenty-seven seconds, three young people in bright colors walked briskly into the room, trying to hide that they were out of breath. Everyone else stood and applauded briefly. The teens smiled awkwardly before sitting down in the front row. Now Brian could begin.

"Again, good afternoon and thank you for being here, Mr. Oliver, Wind Ninja Rangers, department heads and other friends. This is the quarterly research report for tech team number five, colloquially Team Lathe. We have some really exciting developments to tell you about, so I'm going to jump right in with a little background, and then move on to our methods and results. We intend for this to be a brief talk followed by a question-and-answer time.

"This"-he changed the slide to a photo-"as we all know, is the Dark Fortress: the spacecraft and base of Astronema. In 1998, with the defeat of the UAE, the Dark Fortress was claimed by Earth and very quickly repurposed by ConGlamCo into the Terra Venture. During this refurbishing process, ConGlamCo personnel essentially gutted the ship, stripping it of all but its most basic life support and propulsion systems. Everything that they took out of it was boxed up and donated to the California state universities for research purposes.

"Unfortunately, the technology was so foreign and advanced that the professors couldn't make sense of it. The universities loosened their security measures, allowing graduate students access to the artifacts. One of these students managed to make off with all of the ship's data cards, along with anything that looked like a power source, and sell them to an extraterrestrial contact. This is how the Psycho Rangers' data cards ended up on the black market in 1999. Investigation into this theft was slowed by that student's departure on the Terra Venture, and he was only recently brought to justice.

"Early this year, SPD Sirius was able to recover some of the power sources and data cards that were sold, and return them to us. In another stroke of luck, Karone and her husband made a visit to Earth soon afterwards, and we were able to get their help on understanding the ship's databases. The work of Team Scanner on the Quantrons' programming also came in handy. There are vast amounts of information that have been opened up for study.

"So today, after a long, collaborative effort, we are proud to present the first major development in Ranger technology proceeding from this research: a lightweight, low-cost, low-maintenance blaster that provably performs at least as well as the currently popular models, with zero effective recoil. That last part may seem physically impossible, and it certainly was by the means we had available five years ago. But the Dark Fortress made use of a new branch of physics that not only makes this possible, but could be groundbreaking in every area of engineering."

Brian couldn't help but pause for a moment to admire the picture of a blaster on the screen. Ian had done a very good job on the slides; Brian made a mental note to thank him later.

"Our blaster makes use of a new power source, a substance that our materials experts call _destabilized eucite_. Believe it or not, many monsters naturally produce this substance. Their bodies can combust the eucite and release the energy from that reaction in a steady stream. Our enemies have often designed weapons based on this biological structure, and now we can, too.

"The problem with eucite is that it's a solid at room temperature, and even at the body temperature of most monsters. To get the most efficient reaction, it must be heated to a liquid or a gas before oxidizing it. But that requires a lot of energy in itself, and once it's a liquid or a gas, you don't want the stuff anywhere near you. It's white-hot and it could explode at any second. So their bodies actually contain the eucite in a special organ away from the main body, and they heat it to appropriate temperatures over time so that it's ready at any time. When they need it, they start the chemical reaction and channel it out."

Several people in the audience looked confused. This was probably not the presentation they expected. Brian could see that Mason, Wind Red, was about ready to fall asleep. _I'll have to get to the point soon,_ he thought.

"Now, here's what makes this remarkable: The eucite is actually stored _in another dimension_." A few people perked up, or at least looked suspicious. "Now that I have your attention, let me clarify with an example. Suppose we had a two-dimensional monster living on a piece of paper, like the one in this slide. He could store this material off to the side, stuck to what we would call the front or back of the paper, even though he himself can only move about on the surface of the paper. Similarly, our three-dimensional monsters have this organ 'off to the side', so to speak, in a fourth dimension - or I should say, another three-space that intersects with this one.

"Do you see what this implies? Other spatial dimensions exist. As far as we can tell from the Dark Fortress' databanks, Astronema believed this space to be entirely empty, making it safe to store things there. The possibility of nearly unlimited storage space is revolutionary on its own, provided we can figure out how to transport items from one place to another. For now, we know how to channel explosive energy across a narrow path in this new direction, and that's what allows our new blaster to work. The wielder doesn't feel any of the weight of the fuel that it uses, and that fuel doesn't need to be compressed into a small space. It uses cheaper materials than current models, and our manufacturing department tells me that even the tricky part of pushing the fuel compartment into the other dimension would not be beyond our means of mass production. Depending on how much we're willing to invest, we could have these in every current Ranger's hands in as little as a month.

"But perhaps even more importantly…" Brian paused slightly, hoping that would sink in. _Yeah, more important than cheap, efficient weapons, even more important than Rangers_. "Our research tells us that any number of distinct three-spaces may exist within at least five new spatial dimensions, and for all we know, they may be inhabited. This is a brand-new frontier, and we must be incredibly careful in how we go about exploring it. For the time being, we have confirmed with probes that a particular three-space, two feet from ours and the size of the earth, is empty and safe for our blasters to use. It is the recommendation of Team Lathe that the policy-makers of the Hexagon make a high priority of regulating further research and development in this area.  
>"Thank you for your time. As we like to say around here, every win is a team win. Many people in this room and some without contributed to making this happen in the timeframe that it did, and I expect that this discovery will, in time, make all of our lives better."<p>

The audience applauded, slowly. The rest of the tech team took their cue and came to the front of the room. "Thanks again," said Brian. "We will now be taking questions." Some people began murmuring to each other.

"Do you have a projected manufacturing timeline?" asked Mr. Oliver.

Brian froze, but Ian stepped in. "Yes sir, it's in our appendix slides." Brian looked at the slide thumbnails and, sure enough, there it was. He put it on the screen and Mr. Oliver looked it over, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

Laura, the Blue Wind Ranger, raised her hand from the front row. Brian smiled, barely able to keep from chuckling. "Yes?"

"I see that you have projected dates for the availability of this weapon to the Hexagon in general. When do you think it could be available for widespread production?"

Brian hesitated. "What do you mean by 'widespread'?"

Laura pushed up her glasses, looking closely at the screen, not at Brian. "The Silver Guardians, for instance, could make good use of these, along with the new Mariner Bay rescue teams. What are your plans to distribute this technology, or sell it?"

"Laura." She turned around immediately at Mr. Oliver's voice. He was looking directly at her. "What is the first principle of the Power?"

The rest of the room got quiet. "The first principle of the power is to use it appropriately - not for personal gain, but only to serve the people," she recited.

"That's right. That means we have to keep tight control over the power that we have, so that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. We will want to think carefully about each decision involved in distributing weapons. And those are decisions for the administration, not the tech teams."

"I see." Laura turned slowly back to face the screen, still not looking at anyone.

Brian swallowed. _Why did that feel so tense?_ "Any other questions?" he asked.

There was a pause. "Yes, I have a few," said a man toward the back of the room, "but they're mostly implementation questions, so I'll catch up with you later."

"If that's all there is, I'll let you all go, then," said Brian. "Have a good rest of the day." The crowd got up and began to disperse.

Brian turned to look at his team, who all looked like they had indigestion. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Mr. O looked like he wanted to roast us alive," said Barbara.

"Nah, that's what he always looks like," said Ian, rubbing her shoulder. "If he really has a problem with us, we'll hear about it in our next review."

"Either way, I'm glad it's over. Drinks are on me."

Brian grinned, but even as his spirits lifted, he caught a glimpse of the Rangers leaving. Mr. Oliver had an arm around Red's shoulder, telling him something urgently that Brian couldn't hear. The tension was real, and it had little or nothing to do with his tech team, though it might have had something to do with the new discoveries. _What have we done?_


	4. 2003 - Justin

Justin awoke to his roommate shaking him. He groaned. Afternoon naps were one of the best things about college, and Fred seemed to think he needed a full earthquake to wake up. "Come on, I was just having a good dream."

"I thought you might want to see this. They're about to interview Jason on the 6-o'clock."

_Yeah, right,_ Justin thought, not bothering to look at the screen. There had been Ranger look-alikes for as long as the Rangers had been publicly known. Fred's voice was serious, but he was also a decent prankster. Justin put an arm over his eyes. Fred left him alone, but it sounded like he was turning the TV so Justin could see it better.

He was almost asleep again when he heard what was unmistakably Jason's voice. He sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes as the sounds came into focus.

"...refused to comment at that time," Jason was saying from the screen, "because I didn't want to say something I didn't mean. I was really upset."

"It was a very emotional time for all of us," said the interviewer, a pale man in a suit sitting across from him. "Speaking of which, we heard you went to see Ryan yesterday. Are you authorized to say anything about his condition?"

Jason looked pained. "I don't know, but there's not much to say. They already told reporters yesterday that he's still in a coma. It's amazing just how many flowers people keep sending in, though..." He stopped, glassy-eyed. Justin had never seen him like this before.

"Just in case he wakes up."

"Yeah."

"Some people are blaming the Hexagon for this incident, while others are saying that no one could have predicted how badly this went. Do you have anything to add to this discussion?"

Jason was quiet for a little while, gathering his thoughts.

"It's natural to want to blame the people in charge whenever something goes wrong," he said slowly. "People blamed my team whenever stronger monsters showed up. They said we didn't try hard enough. Of course, now they do nothing but sing our praises, because they know we were doing the best we could. Every season of war has its unexpected escalations. Generally, when the enemy ups the ante, the Rangers will lose a couple of battles, but then the Power will supply a boost of its own to counter it. This happened with my team, with the Space Rangers, even Time Force. Pretty much everybody." Some of the students' heads were nodding - the ones who had lived in California.

"So you don't think the Hexagon is responsible."

"It's hard to say. These things aren't simple. I'm sure Tommy takes responsibility for every casualty of that day, just like I did before he came around. They couldn't have predicted the attack, but they could have been better prepared, better organized, and he admits that. Like he said, they should have known all the details about the Rangers and zords under their command before deploying anyone. Just because the Wind Ninja zords can get anywhere quickly doesn't mean the Lightspeed zords can.

"But I want to draw your attention to something specific that Tommy said. He said not only that the Hexagon should have been prepared, but that it should have made sure that the Lightspeed zords could travel longer distances. He thinks they should be able to see into the future, predict the next move of enemies that they've never seen before, and never make a mistake. That's where I think the problem is. Nobody can do that, especially not a large organization dozens of miles away. The reason Power Rangers have been able to respond so quickly to threats in the past is because they lived where the threat was, and there was very little coordination to do."

"I see what you're saying," said the other man, "but I think the Hexagon would agree with you, actually. One of the stated goals was to station Rangers in all of the 10 biggest cities within five years."

"Yes, having the Rangers close by is a good thing. I heard that the Thunder Rangers also recently moved here, in case more monsters showed up."

"I'm having trouble seeing what the problem is, then."

"The problem with the Hexagon is not the individual things that it's trying to do. It's that it's trying to do _all_ of them, under one man. It controls nearly all of the strongest power sources known to mankind. It's already possible for Rangers to abuse their power, but one Ranger, or one team, can do a lot less damage with that power than five teams working together. I trust Tommy's intentions one hundred percent, but if he were to be compromised, that could be the end of planet Earth right there. When you bind together all of our planet's security, it becomes only as strong as its weakest link. That's the reason I've been speaking out against the Hexagon. It's never been done this way before, and I don't think it's what Zordon would have wanted."

"This all sounds very similar to what the Thunder Rangers have said."

"Yes," said Jason, "I think they and I are pretty much in agreement. I support what they're doing all the way. They're helping people one step at a time, like all Rangers."

"Some of the Hexagon protesters are calling for the Thunder Rangers to actually fight the Wind Rangers. Do you have a comment on this?"

Jason rubbed his forehead, as if he had a headache. "I really, really hope it doesn't come to that. As you're probably aware, I've been on both sides of situations where a Ranger turned evil and fought other Rangers, and that was bad enough. In this situation, neither side is evil. We only want to fight people who are actively harming the Earth and its people, and right now the Hexagon isn't doing that. It's doing a lot of good. We lost… so many lives at San Juan, but let's not forget that if Lightspeed hadn't shown up, or if Wes and Eric hadn't been there, we could have lost thousands or millions more. I'm not calling for the Hexagon to be destroyed, only for its methods to change."

"Thank you for your time, Jason..."

Fred abruptly turned the TV off and left the room, not bothering to shut the door quietly. Justin realized he had been holding his breath, and he let it out. He didn't have to ask why Fred was upset. Fred was somehow related to Chad Lee (_second cousins?_), and didn't mind talking about it; lately he had argued with just about every student on their campus who blamed Lightspeed for San Juan. Now that a former Ranger had spoken up about the Hexagon's issues, maybe people would start believing him, but not because they respected the Rangers themselves.

Justin thought about Jason's words to him after Muranthias. They had sat at a table so they could see eye to eye. "Don't use your power for personal gain." Jason had said. "That means you never fight people with the Power, unless they're endangering other people. Save it for the monsters."

He absentmindedly felt for the key in his pocket. _I promised to help if you need me, and I will_, he thought. _Just don't make me fight people. I don't think I can do it._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Someone asked for a Jason chapter, so I came up with this bit to tide them over. More Jason coming up three chapters from now.


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